


So Much More

by Lina_Muro



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark One Belle, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lina_Muro/pseuds/Lina_Muro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, Dark One!Belle, Rumbelle.  “The curse of the Dark One is a strange one.  It doesn't change you. Not as much as you’d want to believe. It takes your strongest traits, your desires, and warps them....draws them to the surface and forces back the rest of the things that made you human. It’s nice to be brave.  But when you stop feeling fear…after a while you don’t feel anything else either.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge

Prologue:

‘ Don’t stop running,’ his mind told him. He could hear the cries and horror behind him. He could hear the bellows of the sightless beasts, the terrified whinny of the horses, and the screams of dying men. Smoke was thick in the air, and what didn’t reek of ogre, blood, and death, smelled of burning flesh. It was enough to make one sick. His terror was the only thing that kept him from pausing to vomit at the stench. All he could picture in his mind was his wife, Milah, and the rumor he had heard the day before.

The man, thin with wispy brown hair, paused for breath behind a tall tree, his hand clutching at the small leather pouch he had received the night before to carry onto the battlefield he currently fled from. It contained nothing more than a lock of curling brown hair. His Milah’s hair.

He could still hear the words of the tiny messenger girl, a stranger with bright blue eyes, ringing in his ears from the night before as she delivered the pouch. “Fight bravely, Rumplestiltskin. There is rumor your wife is with child! Be brave for your son.” She patted his arm before disappearing among the soldiers, presumably to give more news to the men in the camp. 

“My son,” he muttered, breaking into a run again. It suddenly didn’t matter that he wanted to change his family’s reputation, or prove himself. The only thing that mattered was that a tiny baby in a muddy shack was out in the world without his father. And if anyone knew what that was like, it was Rumplestiltskin.

It was with desperation and his heart pounding loudly in his ears that disaster struck. As he rounded the edge of the field, preparing to dart into the treeline, something he had mistaken for a boulder roared to life before him.

Shock struck him before flight could prompt him on, and Rumple found himself lifted into the air. The ogre was blind, bald, and dumb as rocks, but a keen sense of hearing and smell combined with its large body and crushing strength certainly made up for it. He screamed when the ugly beast snarled, crushing his right shin bone. He heard it crack as it shattered, the sound not unlike a cannon blast.

If he had ever known pain before, it was swept from his memory. He realized he had never known anything but the protest of his bones grinding together, his muscles and tendons crying out at the deformation. The smell of the ogre invaded his senses along with the blinding pain. He saw himself in the beast’s eyes, just as they had told him he would when he was about to die.

But as suddenly as it had begun, it also ended. The hideous creature bellowed in pain as an arrow flew into one of its vulnerable blind eyes. 

Rumplestiltskin fell to the ground as the ogre reeled backwards and collapsed with a heavy thud. He lay there in pain, the world shifting in and out of darkness, unable to understand what had just happened.

A shape appeared to his right, and he struggled to turn his head. A woman in a blood-red cloak stood over him, her face shadowed by a large hood.

“That was foolish of you, Rumplestiltskin.”

If the female voice hadn’t been laced with contempt, he might have found it pretty. The delicate soprano gave a tinkling, condescending giggle then as he attempted to blink away his shock.

“I….I’m alive?” he stuttered.

The figure leaned down toward him, and he felt a sharp jolt of pain shoot through his right leg as a glittering hand came to rest on it. He let out a gasp.

“If pain doesn’t let you know you’re alive,” she replied dryly, “Then I can’t imagine what will.”

The hand that had been resting on his shattered leg began to move up his body. Rumple didn’t understand what was happening as she hovered over him, ghosting her palm across his chest and belly.

“You’ll live,” she said at length. Her tone was the same bored expression as before, a slight accent twisting its sound. “Your leg will never fully heal, but that’s the extent of the damage.”

“Thank the gods,” Rumple whispered.

The woman stood up, and as he felt her move away, panic stirred in his breast.

“Wait! You aren’t just going to leave me here!” he cried out, grabbing her cloak. “I have to get back to my son!”

She jerked to a stop, her body tensing and looked coldly at him over her shoulder. It was only then that he saw her eyes, pale, shimmering, ocher with reptilian pupils. They narrowed in anger, and he recoiled, terror sweeping through him.

“That’s exactly what I intend to do,” she answered. If she noticed his fear, it didn’t faze her. “Someone will find you soon enough. If you’re smart, you’ll tell them you followed an ogre broken from the fray and slew it. If you aren’t,” she sneered. “Tell them you fled from battle, like a coward to return to your child.”

Rumplestiltskin released her cloak as if she had burned him. “I’m not a coward,” he mumbled. He heard her scoff in her delicate little voice as she walked away from him.

His head was reeling as the darkness began to overpower him. “There’s so much more to me,” he said, and before he succumbed completely, he saw the woman pause long enough to consider him, shake her head, and vanish in a puff of purple smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a really long time since I've written anything. To be honest, I'm a little nervous treading into a new fandom at this point. Ha. 
> 
> I haven't seen nearly enough Dark One!Belle, so I thought I'd try a hand at it. Thanks for reading.


	2. Wake Up

Chapter One: Wake Up

This was a nightmare.

The Spinner thought he had known nightmares in the past. It was a nightmare to be on that battlefield, smelling of ogre and terror. It was a nightmare to be called the village coward when his wife had found out how he escaped the battle. It was a nightmare when his wife’s eyes faded of love and she took to drinking at the tavern every night, only to disappear into the lair of a pirate. It was a nightmare hobbling home to tell his son that his mother was dead.

But they all paled in comparison to this. 

Rumplestiltskin sat in his darkened hovel, staring into the flickering shadows cast by the dying fireplace. He was lost. Everything was lost.

The day before, the Duke and his soldiers had come to collect more children from the village. They had lowered the war age again. Rumplestiltskin watched as a young girl was torn from her family, her mother shrieking in grief. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He was too engrossed with the horrible implications.

Baelfire had just turned fourteen.

Years ago, Rumplestiltskin had escaped death to be able to return to his son. He had fled from his own enlistment to be able to hold his son, to change his diapers, to watch his first steps, to love him. He had been labeled the town coward, was hated by his neighbors, and abandoned by his wife. But he had his son, and that was all that mattered. 

Only now, Baelfire was in danger of being dragged off, thrust in front of an army of blood thirsty ogres, half trained, meant only to slow the horrors down as they tore through the Frontlands. After everything, Baelfire’s blood would paint the grass. Almost like he had never existed.

And the spinner could think of nothing that he could do to stop it. They had tried fleeing only to be caught, humiliated, and returned. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, and with it, despair crept further and further into Rumple’s mind.

“Papa?”

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t bring himself to turn and face his son. He couldn’t wipe the horror and misery from his face. Was this it? The last time he would see his son? Rumple felt a small hand on his shoulder, and Baelfire made his way around his father. The spinner found himself looking into his own eyes, mirrored in a younger face. Bae had his mother’s hair, curled close to his head, and her delicate, pretty features. But he had his father’s eyes, and that alone comforted Rumple. The young boy had knelt before his father, putting one hand on his knee.

“Papa, it will be okay.”

Rumplestiltskin gave him a watery smile. “I can’t do anything, son,” he whispered. “I’d trade anything to save you from this. My life, my spinning wheel, the sheep, this house….but it won’t be enough.”

“Papa,” Bae said. “I can fight. I don’t need to run away.”

The poor, desperate man couldn’t bring himself to tell his son that he didn’t understand what he would be walking into. To stand on that battlefield, looking at the towering, ten-foot ogres, hearing death all around you, crying, desperate men and frightened horses….no child should endure that. But before he could do more than contemplate the words to warn his son, he heard in the distance the hoofbeats of horses.

The time had come.

“Bae,” Rumple said, “If I asked you to run, would you do it?”

“They’d kill you.”

“Yes.”

“No, Papa. I won’t run.”

Bae was a brave boy. Too brave. Rumple took his son into his arms. He imagined this would be the last time he held his boy. His heart was breaking. Already, he was crumbling to dust. He could still feel the weight of Bae in his arms the first time he’d held him, a newborn babe, barely a day old. And now he was a half-grown boy, and the spinner still wasn’t ready to let him go.

The knock on the door was loud, but neither of the occupants moved. They were stealing what time they could.

“I love you, Baelfire.” Rumple started to cry.

“I love you too, Papa,” Bae choked out.

The door was thrown open, the Duke’s knight, clad in his black armor entered the room. “Time to go, boy,” he sneered, grabbing Bae by the back of his shirt and pulling him from his father. Baelfire spun around, jerking away from the man’s grasp.

“I can walk on my own,” he snapped. 

He didn’t look at his father as he moved out the door, and Rumple was grateful as tears because to slide down his face. He stumbled to the door, his crippled leg slowing him as he grabbed for his crutch.

“Please, sir,” he called out, unable to stop himself. “He’s just a boy.”

“And already he has more backbone than his father,” the knight replied. “It’ll serve him well.”

Rumplestiltskin reached out, grabbing his cloak. The man spun around, rounding on the peasant. He shoved the spinner, kicking his crutch away, while his fellows cackled at the sport. The spinner hit the ground. He tasted the blood in his mouth, felt his leg scream in protest, but he continued to reach forward, begging. “Please. Please not my boy.”

“Papa!” 

Baelfire jumped into the fray, pushing aside the knight. It became a mess, the knight abusing Rumplestiltskin, Baelfire trying to stop him, a second and third soldier coming to stop the flailing boy. Rumple sustained several kicks to his gut, while one of the knights was sporting a bloody nose. Bae’s lip was bloodied, his knuckles bruised from defending his father.

“Enough!”

The voice that ordered them was female, yet it resonated with mysterious power. All the men in the clearing turned to find its source. A small woman stood in a dark crimson cloak, her face shaded by a large hood. The knights shifted uncomfortably, looking to their leader.

“We’re following the Duke’s orders,” he barked. “So mind your own business, or we’ll make you.”

“This family is my business,” she responded. In his daze, Rumplestiltskin could hear a hint of an accent in her voice, and it pulled at a memory in his hazy mind. “And you’ll stop abusing them, or I’ll make you stop.”

The group of knights chuckled darkly, their leader abandoning the crippled man on the ground and advancing on the woman. “Let’s take her,too,” he said, leering. “We’ll teach her to mind her manners in a man’s presence.”

He stopped in front of her, giving her a quick once over, before reaching out to grab her. The strange woman merely flicked her wrist, and the man’s arm twisted away suddenly before he could even touch her, a sickening sound of snapping bones echoing across the clearing. The man screamed and collapsed, grasping at his now broken limb, twisted at an unnatural angle.

“Who…are…you?” he gasped, his voice distorted with pain, staring at her with horror lining his face.

She laughed then, a high tinkling sound and Rumple finally made the connection. Bae was at his side, working to help him stand, but the spinner could do nothing more than stare at the woman.

She threw back her hood, and the five knights shrank back in horror. Her features may have been beautiful, but it was a terrible beauty. Her skin was a strange color, shimmering, scaled, and shifting between shades of orange, grey, and gold. Brown hair hung to her shoulders. Her lips were a dark red, curled into a cruel smile. But it did not reach her eyes. The burnt orange colored irises and dark, reptilian pupils remained unamused, as if the men before her were not worth the effort of hurting.

From behind Rumplestiltskin, he heard one of the men mutter three words he hadn’t heard since childhood. It sent a tremor down his spine.

“The Dark One.” There was no mistaking the fear and awe coupled in his tone.

“Very good,” she drawled. “Now leave, or I will kill you all.” 

The knights instantly scampered into action, grabbing their beasts and fleeing at a rate that surprised the spinner. Only one paused to help the broken man, throwing him over the back of a horse and spurring it on before following suite. In just moments, the small yard was empty, save for the strange, exotic woman, the poor spinner, and his son.

Bae hovered near his father still, one arm caught under Rumplestiltskin’s elbow to help him up. He stumbled to his feet, but never took his eyes from the woman.

“Bae,” he said in a hushed voice. “My crutch, please, son.”

The boy cast about for a brief time until he found the gnarled piece of wood and brought it to his father.

“Papa,” Bae whispered. “I’m frightened.”

“It’s alright, son,” Rumplestiltskin muttered back, his eyes not leaving the enigmatic woman before him. “I’m not.” 

The spinner found himself uncertain at how to proceed with the woman. The reputation of the Dark One preceded her, a history of violent outbursts, curses, and death, yet he still couldn’t find it in himself to be frightened of her. The apathy in her face was too present. Baelfire was tense at his side as he struggled to find the right words to say.

“Would you, uh-” Rumple coughed to clear his throat. “Would you like some tea, miss?”

Surprise flashed across her face, but it vanished quickly. After a pause, she nodded, taking several steps toward them, and Rumplestiltskin turned to lead the way. Bae moved with him.

They entered the small, run down shack and Rumple patted his son on his back. “Start some water on the fire, would you Bae?” he asked, hobbling to a seat at the crudely carved table. “And then take care of that lip.” He collapsed into it, feeling the pain in his body. He hoped his ribs were not broken.

The Dark One entered behind them, her eyes sweeping the single room of the house. The table sat in the middle of the room, a wash basin and cupboards to one side and a fireplace to the other. On the far side of the room, a spinning wheel stood, a half spun bobbin resting on it. To its left a set of cots were pressed against the wall.

Rumplestiltskin felt himself flush in shame as she examined the small, dirty hovel. “I…I know it’s not much,” he admitted. “Life is trying when you’re crippled and your only skill is spinning. Bae helps as much as he can with the sheep and gathering and treating of the wool, but I try to let him take the time to play with his friends in the village. A boy needs a childhood.”

The dark entity turned her eyes to him as he babbled nervously. Her face betrayed no emotion, and Rumplestiltskin bit his lip to stop his geyser of words. What would the Dark One care of the troubles of a poor spinner?

Baelfire returned to his father’s side with a clean cloth and small jar of green salve. He began to clean off a cut on his father’s head that the man hadn’t realized was there. Rumple turned to smile gratefully at his son. As the boy dabbed at the blood there and prepared a bandage for the cut, his brow furrowed, and he looked to the woman hovering in the doorway.

“What did you mean,” Bae asked. “When you said we were your business?”

The woman was silent, watching them, and Rumple had the fleeting fear Baelfire had angered her with his forward question. 

The whistling of the kettle broke the tense moment, and Baelfire moved to gather the tea, bringing over two, roughly carved wooden cups, and one of dented metal. He set them on the table, along with a small pot of honey. He had the water steeping with dried leaves, and sat at the table, wiping the blood off his own face.

“Please join us,” Rumple timidly offered, gesturing to the bench opposite. “How do you take your tea? I’m afraid we have no cream today….”

“Whatever you have to sweeten with will be fine,” she responded, moving to sit on the bench opposite the spinner. Rumplestiltskin couldn’t help but start at her voice. It belied the dark aura she gave off, calm and high. 

The metal spoon in the honey was bent and rusting, but she took it up with no comment and added several spoonfuls to the brown liquid that was offered to her. She sipped at the drink, and silence once again overtook them.

“I am here to collect a debt,” the woman said at length. “Where is your wife, Milah?”  
Whatever Rumplestiltskin had been expecting, it wasn’t that. He choked in surprise, coughing while Baelfire patted his back.

What was Milah doing making deals with the Dark One? After he had regained his composure, he shook his head. “Milah is….no longer with us,” he whispered.

Her brow rose. “I can see that she isn’t here,” she responded. “That does not tell me where she is.”

Rumplestiltskin hesitated, glancing at his son from the corner of his eye. Bae looked confused, but no longer frightened of the woman. “Bae,” he grimaced. “I’m hurting, son. Can you take a copper down to the apothecary and get us some willow bark?”

“Of course, Papa,” he answered immediately, rising from his seat. 

They remained silent until Bae had gathered his scarf and one of their few, precious coins. He grasped his father’s shoulder once, nodded to the Dark One, and left.

Rumplestiltskin rose once the door had closed. “Will you walk with me?” he queried.

The Dark One followed him without comment. They ventured outside. The sun was well over the horizon now, warming the cool air. Rumple watched his son retreat toward the village before he turned to lead the woman into the forest.

“Baelfire believes his mother is dead,” he began. He didn’t look at his companion as they walked, ashamed of the history there, but knowing he couldn’t lie to the powerful being behind him. “When I returned from the Ogre Wars fourteen years ago, Milah was…less than pleased. She took to drinking, and most nights was not to be found at home. Then one night, she was…taken. There was a pirate, Killian Jones. It was seven or eight years ago now. He took her from the taverns.”   
Rumplestiltskin paused, as if waiting for a response, but when the Dark One said nothing, he continued. “I don’t know where she is, or if she lives.”

“She’s alive,” The Dark One said, without so much as blinking. Rumple stopped walking and turned to look at her in shock. “I couldn’t very well collect from a dead woman.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, calculating. “Will the soldiers return for your child?”

“I don’t know.”

Rumple felt fear stir in his gut again, and he turned back to the house, his pace quickening.

The Dark One followed him quietly, her silence contemplative. As they neared the house again, she paused, taking it in. Small, dirty, with holes in random places….

“You can’t stay here,” she mused.

Rumple turned to look at her, confusion on his face. “What do you mean? It’s all we have.”

“Until I can collect from Milah, you are under my protection,” she frowned. “My responsibility.” The Dark One didn’t look happy about the idea. Rumplestiltskin began to feel nervous.

He watched the sun glint off the worn hovel. There was a path out front, worn from years of the same travel, day in and day out. The dirt yard had been disturbed from the morning’s visitors. The stones were uneven, the grout between them worn away by the weather. The straw roof was in the process of being repaired, a ladder pushed against the side. It wasn’t much. It smelled of straw and sheep and dirt. But it was home.

“I don’t run charities, Rumplestiltskin,” she continued. “If you’re to have a place, you’ll earn it.”  
“A place where?” he whispered.

She turned to look at him. Her eyes remained dark, but for the first time, he saw the stirrings of life in them. “The Dark Castle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the image of Belle as the Dark One from a post I found on Tumblr. It's linked directly off my Tumblr (setalina muro). The original is from komrad-teyli on Tumblr, you can find it February 2013 in the archives.


	3. Leave Only Footprints

Chapter Two: Leave Only Footprints

The village on the Frontlands had known its share of darkness. It existed on the edge of a kingdom torn apart by the Ogre wars. By night, the villagers could look across the mountain range and see the ever-encroaching red of the horizon, glowing with flame. A heavy wind would bring the smoke of the battlefield to taint the air. They lived knowing that as dawn approached, another of their children would be swept away by the Duke’s men to fight in a war they could not win. 

Yet even with the years of hard living and strife, they were not prepared for the shadow of the Dark One to move down their worn streets.

She moved quietly among them that day, her face hooded as it always was. The people shrank away from her, ducking into their homes, peeking through windows until she was passed. In her wake walked a crippled man and his son. The whispers followed them, questions and rumors rising. It was only the most desperate of souls that played the games the Dark One. And those that did were nothing more than cursed. It would be years before anyone would approach the house of the Spinner. Years in which children would treat the house as a challenge to approach. Years in which no one would see the Spinner or his son again. 

As Rumplestiltskin limped away from the village he was raised in, he felt a startling lightness in his step. The last time he had left, it was to go to his death for honor in the Ogre Wars. He had returned only to be branded a coward, belittled and abused. Since then, he had spent his life spinning, bartering wool in the village for coins to live on. Now he felt the terrifying freedom of being a man whose hardships were suddenly lifted from him.

They carried little with them, by design of the Dark One. When they were out of sight of the village, she paused, turning to look at them. There was another of her empty smiles on her face. “Always fun spooking the common folk,” she chuckled. “Wait here.”

Baelfire watched her suspiciously as she walked into the forest, biting his lip until she disappeared behind the trees before he turned to his father, scowling.

“I don’t like this, Papa,” he said. “Why do we have to leave?”

“I told you, son,” Rumplestiltskin replied, finding a knocked down tree to sit down on. “We need to go with her. She’s going to make us safe.”

“But at what cost, Papa? At what cost….” Bae shook his head. “There’s a terrible darkness inside her, Papa.”

“I just…” Rumplestiltskin paused, twisting his walking stick in his hands. “I don’t know what to tell you, Bae.”

Bae fell into a brooding silence. Rumple watched his son, struggling to find the words to explain the feelings he was having. How could he explain to his son about running from the war, and the woman saving his life? Bae was one of the few people that didn’t look at Rumple like he was nothing, and the selfish part of Rumplestiltskin didn’t want that to change.

Now, sitting back and looking at the situation, Rumplestiltskin knew he was acting rashly, but there was no going back. He knew that. With information that Milah was alive, and had bargained for his life, he felt a confusing stirring of hope.

In the distance, he could see the Dark One’s blood red cloak shuffling through the edge of the forest. She walked delicately in the undergrowth, her cloak thrown back and the sunlight shining off her dark hair. Behind her came a small carriage, drawn by three beautiful horses. Two were strong, lean palominos, but the third, tied in the lead position, was a tall, muscular draught horse. As she led them, it leaned forward, nudging into her shoulder. She stumbled, and where Rumple expected anger, she turned a smile on her face. It was the closest thing to expression that the spinner had seen from her, and she reached forward, running her hand across the beast’s snout.

“I can’t explain it, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin said, shaking his head slowly as he watched her. “I just have a good feeling about this.”

Baelfire sighed, but didn’t comment further.

By the time she led the carriage over, the face of the Dark One was smooth and detached. If he hadn’t specifically seen it, Rumple may have though he’d imagined the fleeting glimmer of emotion there.

The stagecoach she brought them was deep black with shining gold on its wheels. There was no driver. The Dark One opened the door, and gestured for them. The items they had packed and could not carry, the Dark One had teleported to the coach. They were tied down on the top of the buggy. There weren’t many. A few pairs of clothing, a spare walking stick, some odds and ends that the spinner couldn’t bear to leave behind.

No words needed to be said as the Dark One gestured with one pale hand to the cabin, the door opening of its own accord. To his credit, Baelfire didn’t hesitate to climb in. Whatever his misgivings, he was trying to trust his father’s judgment. Rumplestiltskin hobbled to the coach, and paused at the door, offering his hand to the Dark One to help her up.

Her eyes narrowed, a flash of anger in them, and she stared down the Spinner until he lost his nerve and struggled into the carriage. He huddled in the corner, urging his heart to stop pounding. Baelfired raised a brow, but didn’t comment at the sweat breaking across his father’s forehead. The Dark One followed them into the carriage settling in the empty seat across from them. Once she was seated, the coach began to move.

“We are traveling this way because I have several people to visit,” the Dark One began. Her face was stern “And since I’d rather you not starve in my castle, you’ll have to travel with me. You will be provided for, but there are rules you will abide by. You will not interfere with my deal making. You will not leave the coach without permission. You will not speak to the villagers unless prompted. You will not disclose why you are in my possession.” Baelfire tensed at the word, but she ignored him. “Any questions?”

The two shook their heads, and the cabin lapsed into silence. The horses trotted on, but the carriage barely rocked. Rumplestiltskin watched the woods streak by until he heard rustling. With a flash of purple smoke, the Dark One conjured a table. It was covered with scraps of paper, books, pens, and instruments that Rumple didn’t recognize. He tried to watch her from the corner of his eye as she began to trace several lines on a piece of paper, consulting the pages of a nearby book. Each time she would look up and catch his glance, she would narrow her reptilian eyes. He hastily looked away.

The hours wore on, and Rumple gave up watching her. The map she was drawing was complicated, with many lines, and he didn’t have a hope of understanding it. Instead, he watched the woods roll by, the trees slowly shifting to fields, or rocks. Baelfire, worn from a night of anxiety had been lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the carriage. He lay across Rumple’s lap, and the spinner absently played with his hair.

“I never did thank you.”

The Dark One’s head darted up from her studies. She knew the spinner had spoken, yet his attention was still focused out the window. He confused her, this simple, cowardly little man, with his polite gestures and overall lack of fear of her.

“For what?” she ventured.

He turned to her, his brown eyes pensive as he met her gaze. “For saving my life.”  
\/\/\/

At first the trip passed in silence. Baelfire had taken to whittling to pass his time, carving out small horses, knights, and princesses. He was too old to play make believe with them, but the small wooden figures were charming to look at, and Rumplestiltskin often found himself watching his son. The boy had clever fingers when it came to wood carving, something he had never quite mastered with spinning. Rumple wondered if he would be good at drawing, like his mother had been.

They stopped after dark, and Rumple found himself sore from sitting so long. He wasn’t used to it, constantly moving during his day to stoke the fire, shear sheep, barter in the village, fetch water, spin wool. Even though movement caused his leg pain, it was nothing compared to the ache of being idle.

Both the spinner and his son stretched, muscles relaxing and joints cracking as they emerged. The Dark One showed no such discomfort. She watched them for a moment before summoning a basket to her side. It was a simple movement, a flash of purple smoke and the item was there, but Rumple stared at her, startled. He’d never seen magic before.

“I’m going to the village,” she said. “We will need a fire for the night, but stay within sight of the coach.” Then she left.

They quickly collected wood to bring light to the darkening clearing. They made a rough hole and piled the wood into it, using a flint to start a blaze. They had found two sturdy sticks and a metal pole in the wagon and had set it up a spit over the pit.

“What are we supposed to eat?” Bae asked, poking at the flames with a stick.

“It’ll be fine, Bae,” Rumple said cheerily, hanging a kettle to heat over the fire. “I’m sure she’ll bring back something. She said she’d take care of us.”

Baelfire didn’t reply, but Rumple could sense his doubts. 

It was almost a physical ache that Rumplestiltskin could bring no peace to his son. The topic of the Dark One had left them with a barrier that hadn’t existed before. Baelfire was questioning his father’s judgment, struggling to be strong and to trust, and there was no explanation the spinner could find that was good enough for his actions. Even without the knowledge that Milah had survived her encounter with Jones, Rumple had never feared danger from the Dark One. He had told only Milah about that moment on the battlefield as the sorceress had saved his life.

How could he explain any of it to his son without first admitting his own cowardice?

The Dark One returned before the moon had risen. They heard her coming from a distance, her footsteps silent, but her sweet voice as she hummed carrying through the woods. the father and son exchanged a perplexed look. Perhaps she didn’t know they could hear her? It reminded Rumple of her brief moment with the horse when they had left the village. By the time she reached them, she was silent again, her scaled, glittering face without expression. The basket she had left with was full now, and she set it by the fire.

“Eat your fill, and we’ll carry the rest with us,” she said, removing her cloak. Without it, she appeared even smaller, Rumple mused, almost as if the cloak were designed to give her stature. The contradiction was both perplexing and amusing. The powerful, intimidating woman stood only a hair’s breadth taller than Baelfire.

As the Dark One returned her cloak to the coach, Baelfire reached into the basket and pulled back the cloth on top. There were several loaves of bread, a roasted chicken, and a pot of brother. Bae set them on top of the cloth one by one, a small smile on his face. It calmed Rumplestiltskin’s doubts to see his son smile, and to know he’d sleep with a full belly that night. He set about preparing the tea.

“What’s this?”

His focus was broken when Bae spoke, and he glanced up to the see the boy holding a small leather pouch. He had opened it, looking for salts, only to find a small glass vial. Inside the vial was a strange, opalescent liquid. He held it up in from of him, peering at it through the firelight, tilting it back and forth.

There was a sudden gasp, and without warning the Dark One was behind them. Her face contorted in rage, and before either of them could move, she shrieked and grabbed Baelfire by his hair. She pulled him back off of the stump, and he cried out in pain, dropping the vial as he reached up to ease her grip.

Rumplestiltskin was startled by the sudden assault, and lunged forward. He pulled the vial from the dirt around the fire pit and hobbled after the pair, his crutch forgotten.

She had spun Baelfire around, her hands gripping his shoulders, and was screaming and shaking him, her words barely intelligible. “What made you think you could play with that?!” she howled. “Vials of emotion are precious things! Magical things! Do you know the magic needed to capture an emotion? The effort it takes? To find the right person, the right feeling? If you had broken that-“

“Stop it! Stop! Don’t hurt my son!” Rumple yelled over her. He pushed his way in between the two, shielding Baelfire with his body. “It was an accident! He’s just a boy. He didn’t know!” He held the vial out to her, almost shoving it in her face to make her see. “It’s not broken! It’s fine. He didn’t know.”

Her screaming had stopped, and she stared at him, her chest heaving. There was a panic in her eyes as she met Rumplestiltskin’s gaze. It shifted then, to something he didn’t quite recognize, and before he could label the pain hidden there, she grabbed the vial and bolted into the forest.

Father and son stood in shocked silence. It was only when Rumplestiltskin’s leg began to buckle and he stumbled that they moved. Baelfire grabbed him under the arm and led him back to the fire. They sat down next to each other, not touching the food and not talking, both too shaken by what had happened. Rumple put his arm around his son.

After a several long moment, the spinner broke their quiet. “Are you alright?”

Baelfire nodded, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, I am.” He paused. “We shouldn’t be here. She’s dangerous.”

“I know….”

“Then why are we still here?” Bae demanded, rising to his feet. “We should leave now, before she comes back.”

Rumple shook his head. “I can’t, son.”

“Why not?”

The spinner hesitated, looking away from his son. He was ashamed to meet his gaze, and when he didn’t answer, Bae pulled away from him, glaring. “Answer me. You say we can’t leave, so tell me why.”

“Bae…”

“No! Tell me. I deserve to know.”

“I….” Rumplestiltskin let out a sigh. “Your mother’s not dead, Bae.”

In the pause that followed Baelfire only stared at him, sinking to the ground. “She’s….she’s alive?”

“Yes,” Rumple admitted, defeated. “I…I didn’t know how to tell you, Bae. I still don’t know what to make of it myself.”

“This is about the deal she made with the Dark One, isn’t it? The reason why she was even bothering with us….” he said, putting the pieces together. Then, “She said she’d help you find Mama?”

“Yes,” the spinner replied. “When Milah was taken by those pirates, and I assumed they were going to kill her. And when the Dark One showed up telling me she had to collect from her, and that you can’t collect from a dead woman…” His voice choked with emotion. “She bargained for my life, Bae. If we could find her...”

“Do you…” Baelfire bit his lip, sounding more childlike then he had in many years. “Do you think we could be a family again?”

“I don’t know, son.”

Baelfire turned his head to watch the flames dancing in the pit.

Rumple couldn’t begin to fathom what was going through the boy’s mind. There was so much for him to think about as well. There were so many unanswered questions. He thought about Milah, still alive while for seven years he’d tortured himself about being unable to save her. Had she suffered much? And what deal had she struck with the Dark One? What did she possible have to trade? Then, for a moment, he saw the Dark One’s face in his mind right before she disappeared into the woods. He was suddenly very tired, emotionally drained and confused.  
He knew it wasn’t right to put his son in danger. He knew he wanted to find his wife. And as for the Dark One….Rumple shook his head. He wasn’t so sure about her any more. She’d saved his life. But did that mean the same thing when Milah had bargained for it?

“We’ll stay.”

Pulled from his reverie, Rumplestiltskin looked at his son. Baelfire’s face was set with grim determination.

“We don’t touch her things. We don’t talk to her,” he said, a tinge of bitterness to his voice. “We stay until we find Mama.”

Rumplestiltskin didn’t reply. Instead, he nodded, then reached across Bael and grabbed the loaf of bread, tearing off the end and handing it to his son. He forced a smile as Bae began to eat. He wanted to agree, and say he was only doing this for Bae, and for Milah.

But he couldn’t shake how lost the cursed woman had looked, and wonder what kind of pain it took to summon up that much anger over a potion….

\/\/\/\/\/

The next morning they were met with silence when they awakened. Rumplestiltskin stirred first, sitting up to look around, an odd feeling creeping over him. The fire had calmed to bright little embers, and the sun was barely rising on the horizon. He rose quietly to his feet, supporting himself with his stick, and hobbled toward a pitcher of water sitting near the carriage.

He saw her then, The Dark One. She hovered on the edge of the trees, watching him. It dawned on him this was the creeping feeling that had pulled him from sleep. Their gaze met only briefly, and she turned, disappearing into the forest. Rumple sighed, sensing that she wanted him to follow, and he did so. 

She didn’t go far. He could see her figure hovering in a small clearing, facing away from his approach. Once again her cloak was wrapped around her, the hood drawn. She didn’t turn when he neared, and he stood several feet from her, leaning on his stick. In his desperation to protect his son, he hadn’t realized how angry her actions had made him. Anger was uncharacteristic, and ugly, and was not an emotion a coward could afford.

“Well?” he barked, somewhat unkindly.

There was tension in her shoulders at his tone, but she did not face him. “Last night….” She began. “It will not happen again.”

“Well, let’s hope not.” Rumplestiltskin felt the unfamiliar anger, and let it drive him. “You promised us protection. Now, I want to find Milah, but not if you’re going to attack my son for a little mistake.” He walked toward her, moving around her, and he looked under her hood. “If you’re going to hold up your end of the deal, that means he needs to be safe from you as well.”

He looked into her eyes, not afraid of the anger smoldering there. He knew instantly that no man should talk to the Dark One this way, and that she was repressing the urge to rip his throat out, but he didn’t care.

“This is my son,” he continued, his tone softer. “He’s all I have left in the world. Without him, I am dust. And if I can’t do my job as a father and protect him, then I am truly nothing.” And if that meant he had to stand up to the Dark One, so be it.

She remained silent until she looked away, and taking it as a dismissal, Rumple limped away from her. As he neared the tree line, her voice stopped him.

“It will not happen again, Rumplestiltskin. You have my word.”

Rumple watched her still figure, nodded his head, then made his way back to the clearing where Baelfire slept. He watched his boy sleeping, face peaceful, hair messed over his head, and thanked the gods for his brief moment of…bravery. What more than a father’s love could make a man stand up to the Dark One and come out in one piece?

**Chapter Three**

Their journey continued after that. They stopped often, but never for long. Bae no longer rode in the cabin with them, but in the coachman’s seat. After three days of silence between them, The Dark One returned from the village she had been visiting with a thick jacket, made of leather. She set it beside Baelfire and left without saying a word. When he eyed it distastefully, Rumple touched his shoulder and shook his head. “It’s bad manners to refuse a gift given by a lady,” he said sagely, then he winked. Bae grinned ruefully and shook his head, touching the jacket. It was of high quality, and would be quite warm.

Some days, Rumple would watch her as she worked with her maps, and she no longer glared at him for it. The books she had were often in other languages, and when she wasn’t mapping, she was more often buried in them.

“Why do you read so much?”

The Dark One’s head perked up, surprised. It had been over a week since the spinner had talked to her. The last morning in the clearing he had showed her a very different side of himself, and she hadn’t begun to decide how to handle the Spinner if he became demanding on a regular basis. But his question was laced with simple curiosity, based on observation. She had no reason to answer him, but she did anyway.

“It helps me forget,” she said quietly. “And I get to pretend for just a moment that I’m in a different world.”

It was an earnest answer, and not one that Rumple was quite expecting. The question had just tumbled out of him. “I spin for a similar reason,” he replied, and smiled gently at her. To his surprise, she returned it.

And slowly, something began to change between Rumplestiltskin and the Dark One.

\----

“We’re only a few days from the Castle,” The Dark One announced one night as they sat around the fire. The silence when the three of them were together was rarely broken. Rumplestiltskin talked to Baelfire, and Rumplestiltskin talked to the Dark One, but Baelfire would say nothing to the sorceress, and Rumpelstiltskin had begun to suspect Bae was begrudging his father the times he conversed with the dangerous woman. 

“That soon?,” Rumple responded, scooping soup from a pot hanging over the flames. He handed a wooden bowl across to her. 

“Yes,” she responded, taking the dish from him. She held it between her hands, but did not eat. “I thought it time we discuss your duties while you’re in my care.” 

“Of course,” he said. “It is part of the deal, afterall.” 

“It’s been several months since I’ve been there, and the Dark Castle will need cleaning.” Although she had been warming to Rumple, she spoke formally again, her tone cold. “The boy is not to touch the magical items, and is not to enter my laboratory.” She couldn’t help but sneer a little. “I expect my meals presented in the dining room. You may take yours in the kitchen.” She glanced to Rumple. 

He nodded to each demand. They made sense. Although the Dark One had been being friendlier to him, that did not change that he was to be a servant until the deal with Milah was completed. Her look told him that. The Dark One didn’t want to have a friend. 

On the other hand, Rumple had begun to find himself enjoying her company more and more. She had shown him the maps she was working with, how she was attempting to form a tracking spell for Milah’s location. 

“It remains that you will not interfere with my deals. If someone comes to call, you will show them in to the dining area, offer them tea, and then inform me of their presence. You will say nothing else to them.” 

She looked pointedly to Baelfire on this, and Rumple shook his head. About a week earlier, Baelfire had turned a woman away from the carriage, convinced her that she did not want to deal with the Dark One. The sorceress had been furious, yelling at them both. But she did not touch Bae, and Rumple was grateful for that. 

“They should know if they’re making a mistake,” Baelfire muttered under his breath. 

The dark tension that had been floating among the group suddenly doubled, and Rumpelstiltskin had to fight back a groan. Baelfire had been so good about not picking a fight, why did he have to start now? 

The Dark One was already tensed. “Who’s to say that it’s a mistake?” she bit back. “You’re a child. You don’t understand this.” 

“I may be young,” Bae said, rising proudly to his feet. “But at least I know that lying to people is wrong.” 

The sorceress rose as well, and again Rumple was struck by her small stature, and how large her power made her seem. Baelfire’s bravery, which he had always admired was going to get him in trouble. 

“I never lie,” she snarled. “The truth can be twisted, and fools only hear what they choose to, but I never lie to anyone. I offer a price and they pay it, many gladly. Everyone who has made a deal with me has reaped what they’ve sown.” She vanished then, suddenly and in a puff of purple smoke. 

The clearing was silent for a moment, before Rumplestiltskin let out a throaty chuckle. “Takes a brave man to pick a fight with the Dark One, son.” 

Baelfire didn’t relax. He looked angrily at his father. “Don’t laugh. It isn’t funny.”

“Now, Bae-” 

“Don’t you ‘now Bae’ me,” the young boy growled. “And don’t pretend like you haven’t been getting friendly with her either.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I can hear you,” he continued, sitting down angrily. “In the cabin talking about the maps, and reading, and the time she asked you about sheep shearing. And whether you’d want to try spinning straw into gold.” 

“I’m not just going to ignore her, son,” Rumple said, easing over to Baelfire. “We both know she’s agreed to help us.” 

“She’s not helping us, she’s using us.” The boy looked at his father. “You see that, don’t you? She’s evil. She comes back every night with more and more of those vials. Don’t you even wonder what’s in them?” 

Rumplestiltskin did wonder, but he also knew better than to ask. “That’s not our business.” 

“Of course not,” Bae said bitterly. “None of this is our business. I bet we could find Mama on our own. We don’t need her. We don’t need magic. Why are we even trusting her?” 

Rumple looked away. “Son, she saved my life on that battlefield.”

“Because she had to.” 

“Aye, because it was part of the deal, it seems,” Rumple agreed. “But that doesn’t change that she saved my life.” 

Baelfire looked at his father, anger and confusion clouding his face. “You’re enjoying being around her,” he accused. 

“Bae-” 

“You are!” Bae rose to his feet once again. “She’s the Dark One! She uses dark magic, and she tricks people. Why do you think Mama left? Every time the Dark One uses magic, it turns into a curse. And you’re falling for it!” He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring. 

The spinner paused for a moment, biting his lip before answering. “Baelfire, you know how they always treated me in the village. I didn’t have a friend in the world. They called me a coward and they treated me like one,” he pleaded with his son. Bae’s eyes softened, and his arms slowly slipped to his side. “They’re wrong about me. I’m more than that. And maybe everyone has the wrong idea of the Dark One.” 

Baelfire’s glare had returned. “You saw what she did to those soldiers. What she tried to do to me. Why are you defending her?” 

“She treats me like I’m human,” he burst out in response. “ Do you know how long it’s been since someone has treated me like I wasn’t the dirt under their feet? When the last time I was payed full price for the wool I spin? That I wasn’t looked at like some disgusting trash in the gutter? I can’t even remember the last time someone sat in the same space as me, much less shared a meal.” He was getting heated, emotional and upset. 

After a long pause, Baelfire spoke up. “So then, you think she’s your friend?” Bae had a difficult time fighting the angry sneer that threatened to creep across his face. 

“No, Bae. I’m not that big of fool.” Rumple shook his head. “I think we’re two lonely people trying to forget for a little while that there’s a definition on our head, and it’s all we’ll ever be to the world.” 

He stood up, and cast a despairing glance at his son. “I promised we’d stay until we found your mother. And that’s it. Until then, what’s it hurt to show a little kindness?” 

Rumplestiltskin limped off into the darkness of the forest, leaving his son to his thoughts. Moonlight dabbled off the canopy of leaves above him, and he moved through the trees, fighting the tormenting thoughts that ate at him. 

He had only been walking a few minutes when the gentle stride of the Dark One fell into step with him. She had just materialized there, he could still smell the ozone scent that magic seemed to inherently carry with it. 

For a few moments she was silent, and they walked on into the forest, her tiny steps matching his limping gait well. They didn’t have to go far before the trickling of a stream could be heard over their footsteps. Rumple leaned forward against a fallen tree, tilting his head up to look at the rising moon. 

“I heard what you said in the clearing,” she ventured. 

“Oh?” 

“I don’t need your kindness,” she continued. “I’m not some scared little girl.” 

“No,” Rumple said. “I never said you were.” 

“And I don’t care what title the villagers lay on me,” she added. “I’ve been the Dark One for over a century. Whatever they say, it’s probably true.” 

“Certainly,” he conceded. 

There was a frank honesty floating around Rumplestiltskin that night. She never could quite read him. The ever-present melancholy of the man remained there, but he also seemed almost...like he was humoring her? 

“And I don’t need friends,” she persisted. 

He chuckled once. “Oh, everyone needs friends, dearie. You just don’t want to admit it.” 

“It’s better to be alone.” She joined him in leaning against the tree. 

“Maybe,” he agreed. “Or maybe you’ve just handed the wrong people the keys to be able to hurt you.” He shrugged, giving her a rough half-smile as he glance down at her. “I don’t know your history, and I won’t pretend to, Dark One.” 

“Belle.” 

Rumple started. “What?” 

“My name is Belle.” She wasn’t looking at him, and no emotion showed on her face. But he smiled anyway. To give a name is a precious gift. 

“Well, Belle it is,” he agreed. He fell silent, and the pair lingered in the quiet. It was nice, Rumple realized. Peaceful. The natural sounds of forest creatures, the tinkling rush of the stream, and the breathing of a nearby person….it was peace Rumplestiltskin thought he’d never find again. These were the feelings he had lost when he returned to Milah. 

His brow furrowed. Milah….

“Is magic inherently evil?” he asked. 

Belle laughed softly. “No,” she answered. “Very little in this world is evil by default. Evil is the result of vengeance, darkness, and hatred. Magic started out beautiful.” She leaned down, her graceful hands digging into the dirt. She straightened up with her grip full of earth, and she began to sift through it, pulling out a small seed and holding it in her palm. “Magic was life in the beginning.” The nut in her hand was consumed by a gentle purple glow, and as he watched, it began to sprout. The core split, green roots crawling out. His eyes widened, and he cupped his hands around hers, fascinated as it reached up and formed a bud. He looked up, awe etched on his face to see hers masked in indifference. “Magic can quickly become a curse,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. She cupped the plant, the light faded, and when her palms opened, the plant had crumbled to ash. 

“Belle…” 

The Dark One shook her head, dark waves of hair falling across her glittering face as she pulled away from him. “Go back to your son, Rumpelstiltskin.” She walked away from him, disappearing into the shadow of the trees. “He needs you. I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all enjoying.
> 
> I did some back-editing, so you now I have full-sized chapters. I'm working on the next one as well. This is my last week of finals at school, so I have two weeks I'll spend doing some writing.


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